


Forty-Three

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Cuddles, Happy Birthday Jensen!, Multi, Throuple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: Birthday cuddles. Donuts. Fluff.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Forty-Three

Jensen’s still asleep when I tiptoe back in, nothing of him visible but a foot poking out over the side of the bed and a tuft of messy hair sticking up at odd angles. I set his mug down on his nightstand and slide back in on the other side, sitting up against the headboard to sip my own coffee. 

The smell seems to do the trick. He stirs slightly, and there’s a moment of indistinct grumbling before he reaches out a hand and grabs the mug. I’m not entirely sure how he manages to take a sip without spilling or moving his head — he’s just skilled like that — but he moans shamelessly. 

There’s a distant bang from downstairs. Jensen’s face is still hidden, but I can imagine his expression well enough: lips pursed so he doesn’t smile, eyes glancing up in a silent _Lord give me some fuckin’ patience_ to hide the way they twinkle fondly. 

“Don’t tell me you left Jared unsupervised in the kitchen,” he mumbles, voice extra rough with sleep, and I hear him take another slurping sip of coffee. 

“Well, he’s not cooking. Just… cutting things?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Jensen emerges from his comforter cocoon, wriggling up to a sitting position and giving me a sleepy, soft, eye-crinkling smile. I set my mug down and tuck myself under his arm, resting my hand over his heart as I tilt my chin up for a kiss. He tastes like morning breath and coffee, but it’s hard to care when the pillow of his lower lip gives so perfectly between my teeth. 

“Happy birthday, old man,” I whisper, brushing the tip of my nose back and forth against his. Up close, with my eyes half-open, all I can see of him is long golden lashes and a scattering of delicate freckles. 

He manages to set his coffee down without looking — _skilled_ — and curls his hand around my jaw, thumb stroking the hinge of it. His fingers are thick, rough with callouses, and I’m very aware of how strong they are; I’m intimately acquainted with that strength and the delicious ways Jensen can use it. When he wants to, though, he can be more gentle than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s being breathtakingly gentle now. 

I bring my hand up to rest on top of his, holding it in place, turning to rub my cheek against his cupped palm and then place a kiss in the very center of it. He laces his fingers with mine and brings our joined hands down to my chest, and he kisses me again, taking taste after lazy taste of my mouth, tongue sliding slick and easy against mine. One languid kiss turns into another until I feel like I’m melting, boneless, floating in this peaceful little bubble of ours. 

Jared interrupts by clearing his throat pointedly. He’s carrying a tray loaded with croissants, donuts, and fruit. 

“Holy shit, I’m spoiled,” Jensen says, eyeing a maple bacon donut — his favorite, picked up this morning from the place he loves in West Austin — as Jared slides into bed next to him. 

“Little bit,” I concede. 

“I’d sing the Birthday Song, but I think that’s the opposite of a present.” Jared offers him the donut and Jensen takes a massive bite with an obscene noise of appreciation. He makes a show of licking icing from Jared’s fingers, closing perfect pink lips around his thumb, looking up through his lashes, and Jared’s gaze goes a little unfocused. 

“Show-off,” I say affectionately. “Do you really need to make _everything_ look like foreplay?” 

Jensen laughs as he chews. “He was feeding me, in what world is that _not_ foreplay?” 

“Fair.” 

Jared looks down at the last bite of donut, and I can see the moment he has an idea; his dimples pop in a way that reads “warning: mischief ahead.” 

“Open wide!” he sing-songs, and zooms the last bite in airplane-style. I almost choke laughing. Jensen grabs Jared’s wrist, holding his hand still, and tries to glare, but he’s chuckling too as he nips at Jared’s fingers. 

“The worst,” Jensen grumbles, through a mouthful. He ruins the effect by leaning in for a sugary kiss. 

“Love you,” Jared says, with an unrepentant grin. 

“Seriously, though, thank you,” Jensen says quietly. “This is… yeah. Wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my birthdays with you two.” 

“Pretty sure we can arrange that,” Jared agrees.

I find Jensen’s hand and give it a little squeeze, tilting my head onto his shoulder. “Yeah. You’re stuck with us.” 


End file.
